The Wild Wolf Returns
by JBOVerteidiger
Summary: Sequel to the She Wolf reborn. Basic premise of the series is Robb Stark being born as a girl. Expects lots of things to go wrong and to go right.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"But I still can not fly." She whispered in her sleep.  
Ser Armory Lorch did not pay her much attention. The cold was getting to her. Considering that neither of them had warm clothing it came as not so surprise. He had killed the horse two days ago. What meat he could salvage he had put into a makeshift sack made of a patch of the stallion's skin. In this cold he at least did not have to worry about the food decaying. Dead, the horse was more use to him then alive anyways. He was better of without it. Without the armor. Without the binds to hold the girl.  
He had told her that she was free to leave any time she wanted. The forest was a great place to get killed after all. That had made her stay close and kept her from slitting his throat in his sleep. The only things left to him was the sword buckled to his hip and the knife he kept turning in his hand. The flames of the fire he had painted wild shapes on its blade. He saw clouds and animals and people, but one thing that always returned was the dragon. That had been the beginning of it all. That stupid brat had put a curse on him all those years ago. If he had just slit her throat then all would have been different. His neighbours wouldn't have denied him their daughters, Lord Tywin would have given him honors, his lands would have prospered. But that little witch had to scream and scream and just would not hold still! It was all her fault. Her's and Ser Gregor's. Why did that idiot have to wave around the baby's corpse in front of her?  
But did anyone care about any of that? No, of course not. He was Ser Armory Lorch: the child murderer. And once the opportunity came to get rid of him Tywin had grasped it. He had called him to Casterly Rock and made it clear that he had the choice between taking the black or joining Ser Tywin on a hunt the next morning. A hunt with many stray arrows. His world had collapsed then; the bastard's last words still rang in his ears: "You should have taken a pillow."  
How? How was he supposed to do that? And when he served the Lannisters the north on a plate, what did they do? Make him an outlaw. Well if they wanted him to be one, then he may as well pay them back as an outlaw would.  
He looked over at the girl. Surely the King-Beyond-The-Wall, would be happy to grant him a command in exchange for such a valuable hostage. And then, well, he had always been a good raider. He would rise through the ranks and some day… sevens, even Mance Rayder had started out as a turncloak.  
As the light of day slowly crept into their camp he threw two flaps of horse meat into the flames. While their breakfast sizzled on the flames he walked around looking for branches he could use as torches. Fire was the only thing that scared the wolves and shadowcats away. The beasts were attracted by the smell of horse meat and one had even tried to get Sansa. It was a shame they had not been able to carry its meat too. When he was finally satisfied with his branch collection he went over to the girl to wake her. He looked at that body for a while. She was still nothing more than a child, and yet it was still obvious that one day she would be a beautiful woman. Well if they were to die here he would at least get to release himself one final time.  
Suddenly she growled. Deep in her sleep she made a sound like an animal. Like a hunter looking for its prey. She drew her arms close to her chest as if she was running on all fours. When she started to bite the snow he could take it no more and yanked her up. As she opened her tired eyes, for a moment he could see the bloodlust in them. But then, as quickly as it came, it left, and she was back to the scared little girl.  
"Stop dreaming stupid things and eat." was the only thing he said. He used his sword to pull the meat out of the fire. Sansa silently accepted her piece and started to eat. She seemed to try to uphold her ladylike behavior but after a short while the hunger overtook her and she started to gnaw on her share like an animal. Ser Armory did not know why, but that girl send shivers down his spine. For a faint moment he got the feeling that he could die any moment.  
After he ignited the first torch, he had her cover the fireplace with snow. He doubted that the crows were still on their trail, but one could never be certain.  
They set out soon after. He had tried to orient himself with the help of the stars, but the snow that fell almost all night had made it impossible to make out even the smallest light on the sky. He would have to just have to try and continue in a straight line from their path of the last day.  
That was how they made their way through the forest. North, always north. Everyday they had less and less to eat. And everyday their advance was slower.  
Two days after they had eaten the last of the leftovers, Armory lay awake again.  
Why? Why did his life turn out this way? His mind circled around this one thing and every time he got back to the little girl. He had once heard of Shiera Seastar, a Targaryen who was also a witch, though it was common knowledge that all Targaryens were magic. They had dreams and commanded dragons. Yes, this was the only explanation. The girl, with her last breath, had put a curse on him. He heard Sansa mutter in her sleep again. Suddenly fear filled him. What if all her muttering was her putting a curse on him too? Maybe this is what she had done all these days. He had heard that Northerners knew many secrets of the children of old. Or maybe, he shot the sleeping figure a look, maybe she was the girl come back to life, here to reap her revenge on him. A curse over a decade in the making. Well he was not going down without a fight. He drew his knife and approached her. Yes, Gregor had it right back then. Always break a woman before killing her that way they have no power to curse you left in their bodies. And did he not deserve one last time before he froze to death?  
He was almost upon her, ready to rip of her pretty coat, when she suddenly opened her eyes.  
"There is food. Close. Half a day from here." She pointed to the left of their path. "That direction."  
Now all doubt was gone. She was a witch. She wanted to buy her life with food. But he was not going to be fooled by her. He would have her lead him to the food. And then he would take her. And wring her sorry neck. Take revenge for ruining his life.  
For the first time in a week his steps were fast on the snow. Guided by her instructions, they did indeed find a clearing on which lay a dead stag. Its throat had been ripped out and blood had tainted the white snow. It had to be sorcery. Why else had no animal touched it?  
"You eat first." He told her. _That way I am sure that it isn't deadly._ She knelt beside the dead animal and tore at a lose muscle fibre. It came loose and she took it in her mouth.  
"Good." Ser Armory said as he slowly made his way behind her, silently drawing his knife. "Eat more. I can wait." She just nodded and continued ripping out loose flaps.  
He looked at her back. She was pretty. So pretty and full of evil. He extended his hand. His fingers brushed the back of her clothes, when a battering ram smashed into his side. He smelled burned flesh and heard a growling. But no, that sound was beyond growling. That sound was a demon's cry. He fought himself to his feet and awaited his opponent.  
"No," her voice was as soft as ever. "Let him go."  
The monster who was still ready to jump at him hesitated. It was a hellhound. No other possibility. A gigantic canine covered in burns all over it's body, an eye staring blind, it's voice coming in hisses, gurgles and sounds that were beyond description.  
"Leave your sword. Drop your knife. Turn around and go where ever you like. Don't follow us, Lady will smell you." She sounded almost like she felt pity. She had ruined his entire life, summoned demons to do her bidding and _she_ felt pity for _him_.  
He slowly raised his hands. "No reason to get carried away, my lady. I will drop this knife right there." He put all his power into the throw. If he could catch the beast unawares he could still draw his sword and hack it to pieces. But with a speed that should have been impossible for such a beast, the monster dodged his throw and locked its jaws on his wrist. He struggled with all power he had left in his starved body. He rained blow after blow on the hound's head, but even he knew how pathetically weak they were. He felt something rip in his right arm, moments before his world exploded into a haze of pain, and he watched helplessly as said arm was tossed carelessly into the next group of trees. Then he felt the monster's breath on his face and gaped into the abyss of its blood covered jaws.  
Then he saw nothing.

Thanks to harrylee94 for beta reading.


	2. Kevan I

**Kevan**

"What do you think it means?" Willem asked as he pointed to the red comet in the skies. "Is it an omen as the smallfolk say?"

Kevan, instead of giving an answer, reached for the reins of his son's mount. The boy's horse came to a halt just in front of a peddler's stand.

"Keep your eyes on the street before you, instead of up in the sky, boy." He said sternly, throwing the reins back into the mindless boy's hands.

Willem looked at the ground. "Sorry father." He guided his horse around the peddler, who was obviously suppressing his rage and then quickly caught up again. "It is just that... it has to have some meaning, doesn't it? Why else would the gods send it?"

"You need not concern yourself with omens, son." Kevan replied. "Foolish men believe in omens, smart men tell them what they mean. This comet could represent the onset of war. It could mean the end of the season. To us it hails the new king of Lannister blood. Crimson and gold are our colours and he rules from the red keep." He pointed to the castle that now was not far off anymore.

"I have heard some people call it the dragon's tail." It seemed like the boy really had been listening to all this superstition.

"The last dragon is dead. I told you so yesterday. He was crowned with molten gold by the Dothraki, or so the rumours say."

"But he still had a sister, did he not?"

Kevan pinched his nose. He shouldn't have let his mother tell him too many tales as a child. "Yes he had a sister who now rots on the Dothraki plain far to the east. One of these days she will anger her husband as her brother did and he will slit her throat. That is the way of savages."

Willem seemed to finally understand that his father was not in a good mood and remained silent for the rest of the ride.

As they neared the Keep's outer walls they heard noise from the inside. Kevan caught his son's questioning look. "Probably someone protesting the outcome of a joust. It is Joffrey's name day after all." The gatekeepers had been informed of their arrival and raised the portcullis. The scene that was revealed to them was most unexpected.

The bailey indeed had been prepared for a tourney, but in the center of the square instead of two knights fighting each other there stood a cask filled with water, with a man hanging upside down above it.

"What is going here?" Kevan screamed in anger.

A scream of joy came from the honor seats. He turned his head to see his grand nephew Tommen run towards him. He dismounted and threw the giggling boy in the air a few times, before returning to the issue at hand. "What has this man done, to deserve to be drowned publicly?"

Joffrey, who had silently sat on his seat until now, made no effort to hide his displeasure at being interrupted: "Uncle. It is good to see you." He gestured to the wheezing man who was currently being pulled out of the cask again. "Ser Dontos Hollard chose to honor me on my name day, by showing up drunk and unable to joust. I thought this to be a befitting punishment. Ser Blount, please proceed." With a splash the fat knight fell into the water again.

"It is bad luck to kill a man on one's name day. Even more so if that man is the last of a proud house. Ser Blount cut him down now. I will speak justice over him later."

The white cloak hesitated and looked over to the king.

"Ignore him and proceed with the punishment." Joffrey turned to his uncle. "May I ask, what gives you the right to contradict the king's orders?"

Kevan waved to Willem, who came forward with Tywin letters. "You yourself, your grace. As hand of the king I am tasked with advising you and protecting you. And now I am protecting you from the wrath of the gods. Ser Boros, I will not ask you a second time." The fat knight cursed and kicked over the cask. The water turned the bailey's hard sand floor into mud.

As Ser Hollard was taken to the back cells he fell over himself in thanks to Kevan, but he had no time to receive those thanks since Joffrey had stood up and pointed a shaking finger at him. "A hand's task is to serve. I am the king and I want that man executed."

_Into what hell has Tywin send me?_ Kevan thought. "He will be punished your grace, in due time. A king must know that rash judgements are not the best. Tomorrow when you have cooled your head we will speak justice over that man and you _will _be most pleased with the verdict. In the meantime please do enjoy the rest of your name day." He made a gesture that encompassed the audience and knights in attendance. "I believe that a tourney is supposed to take place in your honor. It would be uncourteous to interrupt it."

Joffrey gasped a few times for air, seemingly baffled by Kevan's audacity then sat down with an indignant grumble. As he made his way into the keep Kevan took time to note that Lady Margaery was whispering to Joffrey provoking a smile from him. Well at least there was one calming influence close to the boy.

"The queen does not wish the meeting to be disturbed." Even while guarding the small council's door Ser Mandon Moore showed almost no emotion.

"And the hand wishes to attend the meeting." Kevan replied while handing over Tywin's letter.

Ser Mandon was not impressed. "I only answer to the queen's orders."

"And these twenty men I have with me answer to _my_ orders." Had everyone in this court gone mad?

Ser Mandon swayed his head a bit then he stepped aside.

The council was almost completely assembled: The old members, Varys, Littlefinger and Pycelle as well as the new addition of Willas Tyrell and the Queen Regent of course.

"Uncle." Was all she said.

"I see where your son learned his courtesies." Kevan made his way over to the hand's seat. "I have a letter from my brother."

As Cersei skimmed it he face started to light up. "Ah, so you are to be my hand. That is good." She turned to the others assembled around the table. "Please, could you leave us alone for a while?"

Kevan dismissed the idea with a hand gesture. "No need for that. There is nothing we need to hide from our _trusted_", he fixed Willas with his eyes, "council members." The boy made a little nod in reply. Another ally against foolery.

"It is not that I distrust them uncle." Cersei was irritated. "I just wanted to talk to you as a niece after not seeing you for such a long time."

"That can wait for later." Her face darkened. "For now we have other things to worry about. My brother has sent me here to put an end to the foolishness that has been going on, and I am here to ask the questions that plague the Hand. Why is the king free to drown a man in the courtyard? Why was an honourable man dismissed from the kingsguard? Why is there still no peace in the streets of the capital? Why was Eddard Stark executed instead of taking the black and on holy ground no less? And how in seven hells does a traitor's daughter get the opportunity to murder the king in his own keep?" Awkward silence filled the room.

That is except Cersei, who spoke up in anger. "Are you questioning the king's judgement?"

"I am questioning the judgement of a boy and a grieving widow." Cersei flashed her eyes at him. "What is done is done. From now on the king will be no longer allowed to pass any judgement without consulting this council beforehand. We will pay the High Septon a generous amount and silence his complaints with that. There will be no more dismissals of _honourable_ kingsguard members." Ser Moore stirred in his corner. "And we will send word to Highgarden to send troops to so we can ensure the peace in the streets."

"They should send their entire army to defend the city against Stannis and Renly." _She sounds like a little girl who's demanding a new toy._

Before Kevan could reply, Willas did: "They will do no such thing. Randyll Tarly is already marching on Storm's End. Should Renly not bend the knee then we will lay Siege to it as we did during Robert's' rebellion. The city is in no danger from the Baratheons."

Kevan gave the boy an approving nod. "That is a wise course of action, but I must ask for Highgarden to sent another host north. My brother will need assistance should Lysa Tully join her sister in war."

"That will not be necessary." Littlefinger interjected. "I know Lysa very well and can tell you that she will do no such thing. I have already written to her." Kevan lifted an eyebrow, but did not want to ask further questions. Littlefinger may not be a loyal to House Lannister, but one could rely on him pleasing his own ego.

"Very well. That brings us to the last point of order. Anna Stark." He glance at each of the men around the table, noticing how Willas' features had darkened. "Why was she not executed?"

Willas, obviously trying to suppress anger, answered. "The king wanted to publicly judge her. When she was asked to speak to defend herself she insisted on her right to trial by combat, and she could not have been denied without losing face."

Kevan sighed. "At least you made sure that her bastard brother loses. But giving Ser Gregor a white cloak was still not the ideal solution." He saw the eyes of the other council members dart to Cersei. He should have known.

"Very well, that would be all. Go do your usual business, while I now talk to my beloved niece."

One after the other they took their leave. Only Ser Mandon stayed behind until Cersei dismissed him. That was worrying. Kevan made a mental note to buy himself the loyalty of one or two white cloaks as long as Jaime was gone.

"So, what do you wish to speak of?" he asked his niece.

"You are the _hand."_ She hissed. "Not the regent. _I_ am _queen regent_ and you will not embarrass me again in front of the council members like that."

"Will I? I was only speaking the truth and giving an opinion that both Tywin and myself share. If you are regent, then you have done a very poor job. I did not ask this while they were in attendance, but why was Willas Tyrell forced to kneel in front of a filled court?"

Cersei bit her lip.

"You will from now on follow my orders, _niece_. You will retain the title of regent for now and should you prove yourself to be able to learn, then I will not revoke it. Otherwise I will see myself forced to marry you to Willas Tyrell once his betrothed is executed."

Her eyes shot arrows at him. "You would not dare."

"It is your father's order, nothing more. But you can avoid this, by cooperating with me. If you do that, I will advise my brother against marrying you off."

Now hate started to fill her eyes.

"Now tell me: Who killed Jon Arryn?"

"I do not know." She gasped out. "Eddard Stark asked me the same thing. He implied that Jon Arryn suspected me of-"

"Incest, yes." She stared at him in shock. "Not all men are as blind as my brother. I am sure Tyrion knows too. That is another thing that I intend to put a stop to. You have disgraced Tywin enough." Cersei raised her hand to slap him, but seemed to reconsider. "You are learning. Now where is my son?"

"He is in his rooms. He feels guilt for giving Robert wine during the hunt."

He scoffed. "What a fool, Robert has hunted drunk for years." _A fool like his brother,_ Kevan thought.

"But it was wine that I gave him." He stared at her in disbelief. "The way he is now he will tell you either way, so I will not attempt to hide it from you."

For the first time Kevan felt hatred replace his anger. As he stood up he tried to keep his voice calm. "Tomorrow Lancel is to ride to the Riverlands to become Jaime's squire. If you should ever use him or any of my sons again, then I will make sure that Tywin learns about all things you have kept secret from him in your life." At the door of the small council he turned one last time. "And should Lancel tell me that you seduced him, then I will send ravens right away."

As he made his way to find his heir he thought of the fate of his six predecessors. Each one of them was struck down by fate. Four of them died in office. But if this first day was any indication, then death came to the hands as a salvation.


	3. Bran I

**Bran**

Edmure hit the table with his fist. "Damn it, damn it all! Why did he have to do that?"  
The Lords assembled in the war council suddenly found great interest in their feet. "He inspired the men. And now he goes and throws his life away."  
"Whatever one may think of Lord Blackwolf's decision, we do not have the power to change it. He and all who followed him are now in the seven's hands." Marq Piper commented. "But do not forget, that he nevertheless won us the battle of the Ruby Ford with his strategy." Concurring murmurs came from the northern Lords.  
The Greatjon nodded. "Aye, the least we can do is honor him by winning this war before he comes riding home with Anna." Again murmurs from the others.  
Bran felt awkward among all these men. But this is where he felt he belonged. He had tried playing with Big and Small Walder, but his mind was always elsewhere. In the end he had given up on it and instead took to visiting his ill grandfather in his rooms. Even though Lord Tully was barely able to leave the bed, his mind was still sharp as ever. Bran spent his time reading him the letters brought by ravens and listened to the old man telling of the war of the Ninepenny kings and Robert's Rebellion. It was different then how father told it. In father stories of war he just said that they fought at this river or took that castle. Lord Hoster had instead described every battle in detail of the formations, the advances, the equipment, the retreats. He also talked of the long days spent marching and doing nothing; something that Bran was experiencing first hand now. He talked of men's morale and how they clung to charismatic leaders, and he talked of the battles fought in the own war council.  
"No!" The blackfish slammed his fist on the table, bringing Bran back from his thoughts. "We will not allow the Lords to defend their own castles. We only lost the territory south of the Red Fork and still control all crossings. If the Lannisters wish to burn and plunder and split their forces, we let them. We do not have the forces to prevent them from doing so."  
"And let them kill more of our men?" Marq Piper interjected bitterly. His father had fallen defending Pinkmaiden and he himself had lost two fingers while defending Acorn Hall. "My father and Lord Roote are dead. Lord Darry is a hostage. If we continue to neglect the southern lands, then soon Vargo Hoat will burn down Stoney Sept."  
"If we abandon our position, then Harys Swift will come down from the Golden tooth and take Riverrun." Uncle Brynden replied. "The bastard has been gathering forces in Lannisport. They are green boys and sellswords mostly, but they would still be enough to defeat any garrison we leave behind."  
"Why?" Stevron Frey asked. "Just sent word to my father to send men to garrison Riverrun while we march to Harrenhall."  
Brynden's only answer was a dark look.  
"Even if that should work we still would have gained nothing." Lord Glover piped up. "We would have to hope to capture Tywin or Jaime himself during the battle to further our position. Otherwise they can retreat to the reach and return with another host that is just as big as the first." All men gathered around the table nodded.  
"So what should we do?" Edmure pointed at various points on the map. "We have to somehow keep pressure on Lord Tywin in Harrenhal, while still protecting the southern towns from raids and at the same time protect Riverrun from the Golden Tooth host. And then there is still Balon Greyjoy."  
"He will sit it out. He will not risk his life before his daughter births a son. And he has no more love for the Lannisters and Baratheons than for us." The Blackfish looked at the map. "Our situation is not necessarily hopeless. If we have the Mootons and Coxes abandon their keeps and join Lord Bolton, then he should have a force big enough to withstand any Lannister attack. For now at least."  
"And abandon their town too?" Edmure's exclaimed in almost pure horror at the suggestion.  
"Those are the ways of war, boy. Most of the men assembled here fought during Robert's and Balon's rebellion or even against the Ninepennies. You young men often shy away from things that are necessary in order to win."  
"Knights of summer." Grunted the Greatjon.  
The black fish was amused. "Aye, knights of summer. A good name."  
Edmure shook his head in disbelief. "This is no laughing matter uncle. Innocent people will die."  
"Innocent people will also die if we march. I am concerned with whether we can avenge them."  
Bran felt his skin crawl. He knew that the Blackfish was right, but he understood what his uncle felt. He thought of the people they had met in the villages during the march. The possibility of them dying because of a decision made at this table made Bran sick.  
"And what do you plan to do about the forces near the golden tooth?" Edmure asked, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Bypass them." Brynden replied dryly.  
Bran and all others looked at him as if he had gone insane.  
"No one can bypass the golden tooth." Marq Piper protested.  
"I have been captain of the bloody gate for years, boy. I know mountains. There is never only one path through them. You just have to find it."  
"And how do you plan to do that?" Stevron Frey was not the only sceptical one.  
"By various means. I will take half of our forces up the Riverroad. The rest of you should be able to hold out against the Tywin should he march on you provided Lord Frey send reinforcements." He gave Stevron a stern look. "I will take all northern clansmen with me as well as the Karstarks."  
Lord Rickard grumbled.  
"They are the Northmen most familiar with mountainous lands and the clansmen especially should know how to find paths in mountainous regions. And I will take Winter." Bran felt something in himself tighten. "I am sorry boy, but you will need to part with him for a while. Wolves are excellent scouts and your beast is the best I have ever seen. So I will have to borrow him, if that is all right."  
Bran gulped down his sadness and nodded. He was the Lord of Winterfell. He had to stay strong.  
The Greatjon spoke up again. "If we are going to fight in the mountains, why not wait until the Valemen arrive? They are more familiar with mountain warfare than anyone of us."  
The old Tully shook his head. "Lysa will not come. She... she is half mad. She sees everything as endangering her son's safety. She will not call her banners in our support."  
A whisper went through the crowd. Lord Glover was the one to say it; "If the Arryns won't come to our help, then what chances do we have? We can barely cope with the Lannister's forces. How will we be able to stand against the Tyrells once they march north?"  
Edmure hung his head in shame. "I have prepared a letter. I will send it to the Baratheons and pledge my men to them." The Northmen's angry shouts were only silenced when Lord Brynden raised his hands. "There is no other way. With the Stormlands and Dragonstone on our side we may be able to trap the enemy between our fronts."  
"But none of them was a claim to the throne!" The Greatjon objected. "Myrcella is in front of them in the line of succession and she is betrothed to the heir to Winterfell. With her we will be able to put a Stark in the throne. This is not an opportunity that the north can just pass by."  
"Was Robert next in line for the throne?" Edmure replied. "Myrcella, no matter how you twist and turn it, was still heavily influenced by the Lannisters. You can do what you want, my lords, but I will send word to Stannis that the Riverlands are his."  
"Whatever you say, Lord Tully, it does not interest us. We only follow the Lord of Winterfell."

"And my sister, the one person who you would have to obey, is far away in Winterfell. How convenient for you." Edmure said drily.  
"No, I said I would follow the _Lord _of Winterfell." Bran felt fear rise in himself, when that giant man approached him. But the Lord of the Last Hearth just knelt in front of him. "Lord Brandon. Please, think about this. If you now stay strong, then your brother will one day be king. Your uncle may act like his decision is made, but he will not abandon our cause while we still march together. Say that we support Myrcella and he will do so too." Bran looked up at his uncle. In the eyes of the young men he saw that it was true. But he also saw him plead. He silently plead with his eyes. _He is just like me, _Bran thought. _He wants to stop his people's suffering as quickly as possible. He does not care who sits the throne as long as there is peace. And neither do I care. _He took a deep breath.  
"We will support Lord Stannis." The Riverlords made a sigh of relief. The Greatjon shook his head. "I hope you do not regret it one day."  
The ravens were sent to Dragonstone the same day. Bran followed them with his eyes until they were nothing but black specks against the red comet on the horizon. Then he turned away from the window and back to his grandfather's side. As he sat down to listen to his story he thought of how he with one word had stolen a kingdom from Rickon.  
The sick man's voice came as a rasp. "So where were we?" Lord Hoster looked at the ceiling while thinking. "Oh, yes the battle of the Trident." And on he went talking and talking about formations, men marching, supply trains and much more. But Bran was not listening. He was thinking of Rickon. Maybe he would have been a good king after all. Slowly the sleep crawled up on him. With his grandfather's rumbling voice and darkness falling on Riverrun it became harder and harder to keep his eyes open. The last thing he heard Lord Tully say before sleep took him was: "I am really glad to talk about all this, but why do you want to hear about this? You were there yourself for Seven's sake! Why do I need to tell you all these stories Brynden?" 


	4. Arya I

**Arya**

They crossed the narrow sea in silence. Arya wanted to be left alone and Syrio gave her all the room she needed. She spent her days on the "_Titan sword_" gazing at the sea, Nymeria by her side as the ship rolled over the waves. She had always wanted to travel by ship, but now that her dream had come true she did not care. She thought of her father and whether he was really dead like Ser Hetherspoon had said. She thought of Anna whom she had left all alone, of her mother and her other siblings. Syrio had told her that once they arrived at Braavos they would make their way straight to a ship leaving for Whit Harbour to deliver her home. Home. But without Anna, Rickon and father it would not be home. It would just be an empty castle.  
One day she was awoken by Syrio.  
"We will reach Braavos during the night. Put this on." He handed her a hooded coat. "Even though we will make our way to the Ragman's harbour as quickly as possible it is not guaranteed that there will be a ship to white harbour willing to take us, so it is best if you are not recognized. We may even have to stay in the city for a few days or a week."  
She nodded weakly and started to pull the coat on.  
"You will also need a fake name. The men of this ship will not talk of us since they believe we are members of the faceless men, but the ship taking us to white harbour will ask questions. So remember this: I am a sellsword looking for employ with Lord Bolton. I am traveling there with my daughter by a westerosi whore who is called..." He gave her a questioning look.  
"Cat." She thought of her mother.  
He shook his head. "Not good enough. Someone could make a connection to your mother. How about Anya?"  
She shrugged. Her name meant nothing to her.  
"Good Anya." He said with nod before turning to look at Nymeria. "Another thing that we need to figure out is how we are going to get you on board the other ship." The direwolf just looked up at him with wondering eyes.  
She had not thought about that. Nymeria had grown quite a bit and by now it would be impossible to pass her off as a simple dog.  
"I have talked to the captain. While we look for a ship they will put Nymeria in a wooden box. Once we have found one I will tell the captain of that ship to pick up our 'baggage' from this one."  
The tears came to her eyes against her will. She scolded herself for it. It was stupid, it was the only way to ensure that Nymeria was safe, but still she could not bear the thought of being separated from her. Suddenly Syrio pulled her into a warm embrace.  
"Do not be afraid, Anya. As long as I am with you I will ensure, that no harm will come to you." Arya nodded into her chest, but her tears continued to flow, so Syrio kept holding her until the sobs faded.

It was night when they arrived at the harbor, just as Syrio had said, and the night's darkness was deep, though the rich districts and the harbours still shone in bright lights. When Arya asked Syrio why no one in the city left a light on he simply told her that it might draw attention to the home. She did not understand what he meant by that, but she dared not ask. When the anchor fell into the waters of the harbour she noticed that Syrio tensed up.  
"Just get off the boat. Act natural and ignore the men coming on board." He told her.  
She wanted to ask why, but by then the boarding plank already touched down on the pier.  
"Go." He pushed her started to walk down it, desperately trying not to stumble as to draw the attention of the brightly coloured men, who, armed with quills and parchment, boarded the ship.  
She walked on along the pier and only when she reached the first house did she dare to breathe freely again.  
"I am sorry, I did not expect them to inspect such a little ship at this late hour." Syrio's voice was barely a whisper. "Now listen to me Arya: No matter what you do, do not show anyone you are armed, do you understand?" She nodded quickly. "No you do not understand. So I will tell you again. Do _not _show _anyone _that you are armed. Do not even make a move for your weapon or grip it for a second. That alone would betray you. Do not under any circumstances show anyone in this city that you are carrying a weapon." She nodded again. "Good. Now walk naturally. Running will only draw _them _towards us." For a second she thought that by 'them' he meant the harbour officials, but then she remembered the dimmed lights.  
Her anxiety only increased as they made their way through the night. At every corner Syrio first checked every direction before waving to her to go on. Little by little they left the lights of the purple harbour behind. Over canals and below aqueducts they hastened, like stray cats trying to avoid rock towers. The city was quiet, but now and then Arya thought she heard the faint sound of steel clashing. She shook her head to get rid of it, but it seemed to return all the time. _Must be because I am tired_, she thought to herself.  
She almost ran into Syrio, who had stopped in front of a house for some reason. She looked up and saw a shield hanging from the door. "The ship" it proudly declared showing a laughing and a crying mummer's mask. She saw a smile play along Syrio's lips. "You know what, Anya? If I had more time I would visit old friends."  
"Too bad you have run out of time, old man."  
Arya wanted to bolt away, but Syrio grasped hold of her arm and held her where she stood. "Do _not _run." He snarled.  
The man who had called out for Syrio was a young, lean Braavosi, dressed in clothes that looked like something Syrio would wear if he had more money and a taste for bright colours. The sword at the man's hips hung leisurely. He was flanked by two others, who wore the same colours as him. From their looks she judged them to be brothers.  
"Since you talk Westerosi with your whore I'll give her the honour to hear why you will die. And by whose hand. I am Sarol Prasept. I champion for the courtesan Illiora Montis. Which courtesan do you represent? Uh, uh" he held up a finger. "Let me guess. Poor clothing and into little girls? I'd say Lady Motegar?" His companions laughed.  
"I do not look for a fight." Syrio was very calm. "I am merely a sellsword passing through. My ship arrived at night and the captain refused my daughter and I shelter for the night."  
The young man laughed. "Even if that were true, I would say that it is just your bad luck old man. But you obviously are a Bravos. A bit old to be one, but a Bravos nonetheless. Well, judging from your refusal to answer my challenge I would say you probably survived so long because you are a coward." Again the three men laughed. Arya could feel the anger rise in her. Syrio could kill them all in a heartbeat and still he stood there taking their abuse. "Well being a coward is probably why you never won the favour of a lady and now have to find your pleasure with helpless girls." The three laughed again.  
"I am not helpless."  
The young man stopped laughing and looked at her. "Oh, I see. Interesting." He made a move towards her, but Syrio stepped in his way.

"I accept your challenge."  
The young man's eyes lit up. "Oh, do you?" his sword hand went for his blade "That was all I asked for." The moment his fingers brushed the sword's hilt Syrio's flew out of its scabbard. A flash, a short scream and the young man hit the floor.  
The others stood baffled as Syrio used the corpse's clothes to clean his weapon.

"I believe we are done here." He stated. "Come Anya." He turned away from the brothers and made his way towards the next corner. Arya followed him.  
"You saw that?" he whispered. "This is why we are not trying to attract attention. It would not be safe."  
Aryas nodded. She knew that Syrio would have had no problem fighting the other two brothers, but if they had been forced to fight more than these three then even he would have been in danger. Maybe even she would have been forced to fight. She clutched her sword under her cloak.

"What are you doing?" Syrio screamed. Suddenly she heard loud steps behind her. Syrio's blade made two loud cracking noises and the two other brothers lay dead in the street. Syrio breathed heavily. "Ah, only touching, ah, one's blade,ah, can mean a challenge."  
"Are you alright?" she asked.  
Syrio clutched his side. "Yes, only out of breath, do not worry, now we must go..." He his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he hit the floor. From the point he had clutched a red stain started to spread over his clothes.  
"Syrio!" Arya's screamed echoed from the doors. She fell down by his side. He still breathed, but the blood now started to leak out of his clothes. She knew that it would not be long before he bleed out entirely.

"Help! Help!" she ran to the next house, but the door was barred. She looked around. They stood in the middle of a small plaza, a fountain in the middle. Every door was barred. All shutters were closed.  
"Help! Help! A man is dying!" But she knew no one would come out to help. Not as long as the others lurked through the streets. She fell down at Syrio's side. She started to shake him. "Syrio! Syrio, _please_! Syrioooo!" But Syrio could not hear her. She was brought out of her grief by a shadow looming over her. She gripped her sword. Who ever it was she would not go down without a fight.  
"Bugger me, it really is him." a rough man's voice said.  
"I told you I saw him standing outside." Another one shot back.  
"Pssh, not so loud or do you want to bring down the Bravos on us? Help me carry him inside."  
Arya felt a soft hand on her shoulder. "You have to let go of him, so we can pick him up, gal. Don't worry, we are old friends of this bastard."  
Then she felt rough hands lift her up and carry her along the street. The last thing she saw before exhaustion took her was the shield of the two mummer masks. But now it seemed like both of them were crying.

Okay, before anyone cries foul play at me, because Syrio sliced through knights like nothing only to lose now:

With those he also expected a fight. Here he thought all was done. Bravos tradition is that after the duel is done it is done. Only Arya did not know that she could still "challenge" those other two guys. Also:  
Those two guys are actual water dancers I.E: they KNOW how to fight him. And as future chapters will show Syrio had the bad luck to run into three of the best blades of this generation.


	5. Samwell I

**Samwell**

"So you will be my leading officers." Aenys Frey spat out. "A dog, a cow and a pig. Well at least I know that we won't run out of meat rations."

Samwell tried not to let his fear show. He had been assigned to be Aenys Frey's personal steward during the march and now that they had taken Sable Hall he was to take charge of the stewards. That responsibility alone would have been enough to make him shake in fear. But to serve under a man like Aenys Frey made it even worse. Aenys had been one of the men sent north by Lord Walder to protect his son Emmon, who, as everyone pretended not to know, had been pressured into taking the black by his brother in law Tywin Lannister. Just like Hosteen and Black Walder, Aenys made no secret out of his despising his new position. His red eyes never stopped shooting arrows at all he considered and the mouth above his thin grey beard never stopped snarling.

"Having second thoughts about promoting me, Frey? Just a word from you and I will be a common ranger again. That's all I came up here for anyway. So I can kill as much as I like." said a snarling voice behind a dog helm. Sam was no doubt afraid of Aenys Frey. But he was outright terrified by Sandor Clegane. When they had prepared to storm the palisades suddenly he had appeared out of nowhere followed by Yoren and all the other new recruits. Wherever his horse went the deserters scattered or threw away their swords and plead for mercy. But the man with the burned face had only laughed and ran them down. Only when the flames of the Black Knife where in front of him did his charge stop. By then the battle was already won. Many claimed the Hound had won it on his own.

Aenys wiped some ash off the makeshift table they had carried into the commander's quarters of the Black Knife. "Not so hasty, my dear Clegane. You are one of the best swordsmen I have in this bloody ford. And the men like you. For what reason, I don't know. But you should serve better than most others here." Sandor grunted, obviously not pleased. Aenys smiled sardonically. "And should you feel that the responsibilities are too much for you, then you can always just desert during one of the rangings. The gods know that one skeleton more or less in that forest will not make a difference."

Sandor gripped his sword belt. "Just spit out your orders, so I can leave your presence, old man." Aenys shrugged. "Well, if you are so eager to serve. That wandering crow, Yoren, was brought quite a few new men to the wall. Most of them have been assigned to the stewards and builders, but some are of the fighting type. I want you to lead them on a first ranging to the north."

"A ranging to find what exactly?"

"Just getting accustomed to the land. And to each other. You have their admiration for now Clegane. But what you will need is their respect. Or their fear. I will leave it you to decide what you want."

Sandor grunted in reply and left. Aenys turned in his chair to regard the boy standing next to Sam.

"How old are you?" The question came like whip.

"Fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Aenys stretched the vowels.

"Yes."

Aenys sighed and looked at the list of the keep Sam had provided him with. "And your name is Gendry... Bullson?"

The other boy gave Sam an angry look. He could just offer a smile as apology. "Just Gendry, m'lord."

"I am no lord, I am simply your commander. You will address me accordingly." To that, Gendry nodded.

"Good. Show me your hands." Gendry stepped forward and offered his hands. They were big, rough and hard. Aenys started to feel them, sometimes scratching at a patch of rough skin or stabbing them with his nails. When he was done he gave a satisfied nod. "Seems you did not lie about being a smith. And a good one at that judging from the helmet you are carrying around." Gendry again gave no reply. "You are not the talkative kind, are you?" Aenys reached into the package of parchment Sam had brought with them from Castle Black. "I know you probably can't read, but the illustrations are self explanatory. We are getting a Maester from the Citadel soon and the Brown Dagger needs to be prepared for him."

The black haired smith examined the plans. "I will need to talk to Cutjack about this."

"Do so. Once the barracks Lorch tore down are rebuilt, get immediately on this." Gendry nodded and turned to leave."Oh, and one more thing." Gendry stopped at the door. "If you have the time, make two helms. One in the shape of two towers and one in the shape of a boar. We have to show unity in front of the men." Gendry simply nodded and left.

When Sam heard the door slam, he broke into a cold sweat. Now he was all alone with the commander.

"That leaves you. Tarly." Aenys put the tips of his fingers together. "What shall I do with you?" Sam started to speak, but was stopped by the force of his commander's hand. "No, you will listen to me. You cannot hunt. You cannot mend clothes. You cannot farm. Seven hells, you can't even cook. That beef you made during the march was awful." Sam hung his head in shame. "But what you can do better than anyone else here is read. And even better, you write." He held up all the documents he had used during the talk with Gendry and Sandor. "You write well. Organized. Lothar would be impressed by you." Aenys grinned, but it was not a pleasant grin, more a snarl than anything else. "You will work with numbers. You will tell the others what to do. But listen to this Tarly: You will not help them. Never. If you ever help them then they lose their respect for you. They will resent you of course, they will take you for lazy, even though you are no longer that fat. But they will still respect you as their commanding officer. They might even hate you." Aenys eyes pierced Samwell. "Are you ready to carry that burden?"

Sam tried to answer but only stammering came out of his mouth.

"That will have to do." Aenys handed him a piece of parchment. "Here are your instructions. Now go and find me Hot Pie so he can make me my supper."

Sam had never been so glad to obey an order.

On his way down the stairs he read what Aenys had written for him. Plans for cutting down trees. Plans for ploughing and farming. Sam counted the number of oxens they had left alive after the march. The number was exactly the one needed to carry out Aenys plans. Eventhough he was afraid of the old Frey, Sam could not help but be impressed by such foresight. When he stepped out into the yard Gendry was waiting for him.

"Bullson? You think that's funny?"

Sam smiled nervously. "You told me you didn't like Waters."

Laughing Gendry shook his head. "For that I'll finish your helmet before Aenys's."

"Uh," Sam handed him Aenys's plans. "I actually think that we won't have the metal for that. These ploughs will not be made out of air."

Gendry looked at the plans then looked at Sam. "I can't read remember?"

"Oh," embarrassed, Sam quickly took the plans back. "Doesn't matter. We will need ploughs to farm this land."

Gendry looked around. "You think we can reap a single straw in this land, with winter coming?"

"The Watch did so in the past." Sam responded. "The New Gift even used to support multiple villages before the wildlings drove them out."

Gendry nodded. "Well lets hope they don't drive us out too. See you around, Tarly."

"Wait!" Sam called a bit louder then he wanted too.  
"What?" his friend asked.

Sam lowered his voice. "Where are the two...you know whos?"

Gendry raised his eyebrows. "I really don't understand why you get so worked up about two mute boys."

"Only one is mute, Gendry." Sam protested.

"The other one might as well be with the amount he talks." He pointed towards one of the barracks. "They should be in there."

Sam said his thanks and then hurried to get there.

He still remembered how he had found them. They had lain right next to the burned out tower. One still bled out of a stabbing wound in his ribcage, while the other's face and left arm stunk of burnt flesh. And for some reason, both of their legs looked as if a giant dog had bitten them. When they examined the surroundings of the two, they discovered bloody marks in the snow indicating that they had been dragged from the tower. It remained a mystery who had saved them out of the burning tower.

They had awoken three days later. One of them, Jojen, spoke little. The other, Edd, did not speak at all. All he managed was a rattle coming from deep inside his throat. And black slime that he coughed up.

When Sam entered the small alcove the two occupied, Jojen lay on the mattress sleeping. Edd leaned against a wall sharpening his sword with a flint, causing sparks to fly. He had been able to stand and walk slowly for a few days, but he still spend most of his days brooding in his chamber. He threw Sam a dark look before giving Jojen a nutch to wake him.

The boy Crannogman slowly sat up. "I dreamed three golden spears flew through the skies. One struck down the sun. One split a giant's head. And one hit a wolf. I saw the three lie on the ground. Only one of them stirred."

Sam shook his head. The poor boy might have retained his voice, but he had certainly lost his mind. He did not know which of the two he pitied more.

Jojen turned to look at him. "Soon there will be a ranging. We will leave this place when they do."  
Sam shook his head, and raised an eyebrow in confusion. It was beyond him how Jojen knew things he ought not to know. But he did know one thing. "You will not be allowed to go on a ranging. You will stay here until you are healed, and then you will be sent home."  
"By then it will be too late." Jojen's eyes became hard. "By then she will be to far away for me to help her."

Sam hesitated. He, and everyone else had heard Jojen's story of where Amory Lorch and Lady Stark had disappeared to. But one of Frey's first acts as commander had been to call off the hunt. Sam knew that it would have wasted the men's energy as the commander claimed. Despite it, he wished he could have done something about it. "No one can help her now, Jojen. Pray if for her. She is now in the lands of the old gods."

For a moment, Sam wondered what was wrong. Then he realized that the sound of Edd sharpening his sword had stopped.  
The Karstark boy sat in his corner, his eyes full of hatred. Staring up at Sam. Staring into his very soul. Sam gave a subconscious shiver before Jojen spoke again.

"Look at us, Sam. What good would sending us home do? Edd would be with his uncles who hate him for marrying Sansa and who will hate him even more for losing her. I will be sent to my father and he will probably never let me leave Greywater Watch again, afraid of what may happen. There is no future for us anywhere, Sam. Our only hope is to find Sansa."  
Sam was silent for a long time.

"This place was built for men without hope. If you would like, you can stay here."

Jojen shook his head. "We must _go_. It is not an option"

Sam sighed. It had been his last hope. "You pray to the old gods like I do. If you would like to join the Watch, you would have to walk out the gates into the lands beyond the Wall. Since you are so weak you will probably assigned only one guard." He gave the two a meaningful look. "I could be that guard. I would probably even leave my warhammer behind, since it's so heavy."

And with that he left them. To hell with Aenys Frey and the men who would not respect him. He would do what was right.

He sniffed the air and smelled that dinner was almost ready. Suddenly that he had forgotten to fetch Hot Pie with the commander's supper. Cursing, he hastened towards Gendry's smithy.


	6. Tyrion I

**Tyrion**

"It seems the gods have a strange sense of humor." Tyrion remarked as their small party made their way through the mountains of the moon.  
Jory, who rode at the front of the column turned back towards him."What do you mean by that Lanniste…., I mean milord?"  
"No, no need to be shy Ser. Call me by my family name. It is after all not a curse or anything." Jory grinned. The young man had been extra courteous since Tyrion managed to broker the alliance with the clans, even thou he did not like the price Tyrion had promised them. He had even stopped calling him imp and Lannister. But old habits did not die easy.  
Tyrion let his gaze wander over the cold mountains.  
"Not so long ago I was at another place ruled by ice, rocks and wind. Back there rapists and murderers were sworn to 'protect' us from other rapists and murderers. And now here I am bringing news to the Lord of the South that they are to march into the lands of other rapists and murderers, hoping that they will not betray their word as they have a thousand times before."  
"As have the Valemen I am sure." Jory spat out. "Give me a man like Shagga anyday. With him I at least know what he wants and why he fights and who he is loyal to. But knights" He pointed to a mountain in the distance. A castle stood at its very top. Blue-and-White banners flew from its seven towers. "With knights you never know when they might slit your throat."  
"Do you include yourself in that?" Tyrion pointed to the sword Jory was holding. "You may think that you will be save from my nephew's wrath in the north, but believe me, when I tell you that you are not. A Lannister always pays his debts."  
Jory drew the sword and looked at its blade.  
"You should probably reforge it. Without all the lion insignia it will not be recognizable. What are your families arms?"  
"Wolves."  
Tyrion rolled his eyes. "I should have known."

Evenhou they could see the Eyrie they still spent the better part of the day riding until they reached the Gates of the Moon. It was not a big castle, but Tyrion knew that the banners of the Eyrie included Houses with levies numbering ten times as many as this castle could hold.  
"Jory my friend, I believe this is goodbye. I did anything in my power to help you in retrieving the boy. I fear that I will not be able to offer much help in cutting through burned men. I will rest for a day and then ride for Gallowton and from there to White Harbor. Word of Rickons disappearance should have reached Winterfell long ago. I would not be surprised if you run into northmen when marching towards the bloody gate to meet Shagga."  
Jory saluted him by striking his breast plate with his clenched fist. "Your help has been much appreciated. I do not know what I would have done without you."  
Tyrion turned to the men fixing each with his eyes burning their faces into his mind. "Please return this man in one piece to Winterfell. That is all I ask of you. We had some good times. Ten dragons will be waiting for each of you. For those of you who have family I will take the freedom to spend the money on them during absence." They too gave him the soldier's salute.  
All except Bronn who rode to stand beside him. "I hope that you will still have some use for me. Climbing through the mountains without pay or guarantee to come out alive is not to my liking."  
Tyrion slapped the other man's elbow. "Oh, Bronn. As if I could forget about you. I am sure that Winterfell is severely lacking in men who love wine and gold more than their honor. In other words, men of my liking. You are coming with me."  
He turned to Jory. "Shall we?"  
The young knight opened his mouth for a reply, when a buzzing sound came from the walls of the moat. With a thud the arrow pierced Jory side. He looked down on it, mild surprise in his eyes, then reached for his sword, only for the second arrow to pierce his thigh. Then the arrows started coming so fast, that the buzzing did not stop. The northerners tried to turn and flee, but from behind them there came already that what Tyrion knew would come. With the sound of warhorns the knights of the Vale descended on their small troop. Jory tried to rally his men, but a young man displaying a field of red and white diamonds pierced him with his lance. Only a few heartbeats had gone by since the first arrow had struck, but already all but Bronn and Tyrion lay dead or dying on the ground.  
A knight displaying the arms of House Royce, apparently their leader stepped forward.  
"I am relieved to see you are still well my lord Lannister. Do not be afraid. I am sure there are many questions on your mind right now, but be assured that no harm will come to you."  
Tyrion, still struggling to gather his thoughts vary of any promise a man, who had killed twenty men without reason, made, answered: "May I ask why you have killed my fellow travelers as if they are common thiefs or muggers?"  
"As I said, many things have happened since you have disappeared mylord Lannister, but soon all will be revealed. For now it must be enough for you to know that the Northmen have raised their banners in rebellion against the king."  
Now Tyrion was sure the man was lying. "Do you take me for a fool? Eddard Stark would never rebel against Robert. I myself have talked to him not long ago."  
His opposite raised his eyebrows. "Eddard Stark is dead. There is a new king now. As I said all will be revealed in due time. For now let us go inside where it is warm."

Tyrion hesitated, but he resigned himself to his fate. What choice did he have after all? He once more examined the faces of his dead companions. Which of them had family? He would have to find out. A Lannister always pays his debts.  
As he turned away from the Royceman he heard a young voice speak up.  
"I got the one with the lion sword they told us about!"  
"That's a good lad Harry." The Royceman replied. "If you were any older I would knight you for that." He turned in his saddle. It was the young boy with the red and white shield. A blond squire squire with lively blue eyes not even fourteen years old. Probably hoping to get knighted and become a great warrior like Dragonknight. Too bad he will amount to much. There right word at the right place will see to that. The boy furrowed his brows.  
"But there is one thing I don't understand. Why were we supposed to keep him alive?"  
The older knight patted the lad's shoulder. "The king wants to settle some personal business with him. Nothing you have to worry about."  
Tyrion heart stopped. Bearing a grudge against a boy named Harry had become meaningless. Oh, you fools. And you even deem yourselves happy to go die for this king. Oh yes and you will die happily with his name on your lips. Joffrey. Joffrey the first of his name.


	7. Jon I

**Jon**

The night air was cold, made even colder from the wind coming from the sea. He raised his muzzle and smelled the wind. Soon it would be colder. He could tell from his instincts. Soundless as a ghost he made his way through the trees. He could hear his small cousins lurking in the distance, ever since he had chased off the female who had tried to mate with him, none had dared come closer. He did not care. As long as they did not interfere with his prey, all was good. He had been chasing this deer for almost a whole day now and finally closed in for the final kill.  
He froze. Something wasn't right. The sound of the deer's feet had stopped. He narrowed his eyes trying to make out what caused his prey to do something so suicidal, when the wind turned. And with it came the warmth. There was no doubt about it. There was a fire up ahead. The deer, frozen between two death roared in panic and charged towards him. He easily dodged the attack, but let it go. He would have no time to eat.  
Slowly he made his way towards the source of the fire, ever ready to run. This was no ordinary fire. He had lived with humans long enough to know the smell of burning bodies.  
He slowly made his way through the forest, until he reached it' end. Before him the land steeply fell into the sea. A sea filled with ships. The most men manning them looked like the squishy ones who had taken him and his master away from their friends. But they did not smell like danger. They only smelled dangerous. Some of them had silver hair, others did not. And above all flew a fiery heart. But that was not the source of the fire. Just on the other side of the bay stood a burning castle. From its battlements still flew two black wings, but one after the other the standards caught fire until nothing was left.  
He turned to leave this place behind, but suddenly he felt watched. He could not resist, as his gaze was forced towards the biggest ship, where a cold man stood among others. But it was the woman by his side, who his eyes were drawn to. She had red hair, but not like the one of his sister's master. No, this hair was not of this world. And here red eyes seemed to reach into his very being, reaching, reaching and finding. He felt a fiery hand close around his heart.

"Jon! Wake up Jon!"  
He felt a slap on his face and stared up into Domeric's concerned face.  
"Where is she? The red haired woman?"  
Domeric raised an eyebrow. "You better not call Anna that once we find her." He looked at Jon's crotch. "I seriously hope you have not been dreaming of Anna."  
Jon followed his friend's eyes and only to hastily clean himself up under curses.  
He stood up and looked around. The camp was in turmoil with Lannistermen running to and fro.  
"What is going on? Why are we breaking camp at night?"  
"That's what I wanted to tell you, Jon. Stannis was taken Rook's rest. He is less than two days from here." He felt his friend's hand on his shoulder. "It's still not too late for you to run."  
Jon slapped it away. "I made my decision. If I go now, then I would have betrayed everything I have ever lived for."  
"I never doubted you Jon. It's just that I am afraid."  
"Me too, Domeric. Me too."

They rode hard for the remainder of the trip. Refugees from the Claw quickly caught up to them, but it soon became clear that Stannis marched West to Harrenhall, not towards King's Landing.  
"Once he joins up with your father the keep will fall." Harrion said to Domeric one evening at the fire. "We might not even have to worry about the way back. By the time Jon had his trial Stannis will already be coming to meet us."  
"That still won't end the war though." Domeric replied. "The Lannisters can still buy more and more sellswords and the Tyrells will not give up so easily now that they have tasted the opportunity of becoming royal."  
'How confident they all are.' Jon thought. 'Of course it's all a ruse. Inside they are dying of fear as Domeric and I am. Fear that I might fail. Fear that the Lannister's will not honor their word to let them leave safely. Fear for their brothers and fathers.'  
He was awoken from his thoughts by the clopping of hooves. Several riders had come into camp, followed by a big entourage. The one leading them was a bearded young man in a green cape. He looked so full of energy, that Jon was surprised when he noticed the twisted knee in the stirrup. Servants rushed forward to help their lord off the horse.  
Jon stood up and addressed his friends. "Come. Let's greet my brother-in-law."  
Anna had written a lot about Willas. Ever since Theon had been sent to the wall Jon had made sure that he and Domeric were the only boys that approached Anna closer than two arms length. He had been worried how she would fare in the foreign south, but from her letters he had learned enough about Willas to deem him worthy of his sister. But that was back, when he was only Willias, son of Mace Tyrell. Now he was Willas, brother-in-law of Jons murderer.  
Willas, bracing himself with his cane, gave an implied bow towards Jon.  
"Lord Blackwolf. It is good to see you. I bring news of your sister and the capital. She is alive and well, concerning the circumstances. I managed to convince the queen regent to release her from the black cells for the time being and letting her stay under the guard of my brother Loras.  
Preparations for your trial are already underway. Once you have won, be assured that I will see to you and your entourage having a save return to your allies."  
Jon scoffed. "Just as king Joffrey guaranteed my father's save return should he admit to the false claims of treason. Spare me your lies. You as everyone else are counting on the mountain slaying me as he did hundreds before." While making his voice sound as aggressive as possible Jon tried to send his opposite a message with his eyes. Willas was silent for a moment. He seemed to take Jon's measure, then he made a dismissive gesture with his hand.  
"If this is how you northerners value common courtesy, then I am glad that you will shortly find your end." He spat out, but when his head came back up his eyes pointed to a spot to Jon's left. "Thankfully Anna takes after your father's rightful wife." With that he turned to his servants gesturing to them to bring out the food and drinks they had brought, including a small barrel for the mountain alone.

Jon waited for a long time under the oak Willas had pointed too. The sky was already turning blue again, when he heard the clacking of the Tyrell's cane.  
"You came." Jon nodded. "You really are a fool to come alone Blackwolf. I could have been working for Joffrey to ensure you never arrive."  
"Who says that I am alone." Jon replied, knowing, that Domeric had an arrow pointed at the Tyrell's heart.  
Willas smirked. "Neither am I."  
Out of the bushes a man appeared. He was brought shouldered, shaven and bald, a hood hid his dirty face from the upcoming sun. "My brother Garlan knows more about swordsmanship than most men will ever learn. He has a long brown beard and curly brown hair. He is also keen to keep his face clean. He is currently on a hunt in the kingswood and will just happen to return the same day as you, with all his hair cut off. He sometimes makes rash decisions like that." The man gave only a grunt in reply. "Please return him in one piece, otherwise I would have to explain somethings to his wife."  
Jon was dumbfounded. This man, was actually offering him his own brother as trainer. The man, who he had design his entire past training after, would be teaching him the way of the sword.  
Jon shook his head. "We will arrive in King's Landing in two days. It is not enough time for me to learn from him."  
Willas scratched his beard. "Yes, that would be true. If it were not for several of your party catching some nasty disease while wading through the privy hat is Flea Bottom. Thankfully the Mountain drank most of that wine alone, otherwise I would not be sure that the dosis would be enough to make him sick." He pushed himself into Jon. "Now listen Blackwolf. I have gone to great length to save your sister's life, so you must now promise me one thing."  
"Anything, my lord."  
"Spare the life of my brother. They will of course hope that Ser Gregor will regain his composure, but it will be for none. Soon enough Joffrey will become impatient and call on the second best of his white cloaks to defend him."  
"The knight of Flowers." Jon whispered.  
"Yes. Garlan knows his strategies inside and out. He will teach you as much as is possible in these two days and from then you should have one more week to prepare. It will not be an even fight, but you will have more chances than against the mountain."  
Jon fell to his knees. "Mylord I do not know how to thank you."  
Willas slapped him. "Stand up man, you are embarrassing yourself. You are not the brave Jon Anna told me about. It all comes down to you beating Loras without killing him. And once you are done take Anna as far away from the city as possible, because I will cause hell to break loose."  
Jon struggled to stand back up, but the tiredness of waiting for Willas until morning and the pure shock of the unexpected help had taken its toll.  
"We better make our way back." Willas said to Garlan. "Tommorow he will stand before your tent. Call him Robert Strong. Wait a while before you follow us."  
Willas left and Garlan followed close behind. When they were ten steps away Jon heard Garlan draw a sword. He recognized the sound. A second later Ice clattered at his feet.


End file.
